


Brand Appreciation

by incogneat_oh



Series: That One Hug Meme [3]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Batdad, Gen, I have a lot of Bruce and Tim feelings, Prompt Fill, hug meme, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 10:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11079477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incogneat_oh/pseuds/incogneat_oh
Summary: “I can see your reflection in the screen,” the boy says flatly, without turning from his computer.Damn.“Good evening,” Batman says.For theprompt'hugs from behind'.





	Brand Appreciation

-

It’s late at night and Batman is in the shadows. 

This is not an uncommon occurrence.

He’d bypassed the high-tech security easily; less than a minute. Not good enough. He’ll make improvements to the system. Especially since  _even now_ , there’s no registering an intruder. 

The silhouetted figure types on, his back to the dark room. Batman wonders how long–

“I can see your reflection in the screen,” the boy says flatly, without turning from his computer.

_Damn._

“Good evening,” Batman says.

He can literally  _sense_ the moment where Tim rolls his eyes. “Yeah, hi.” He peeps over his shoulder then, raising one eyebrow, and he says, “You couldn’t have called ahead?”

“I’m Batman,” he says. “Calling ahead isn’t really my M.O.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tim snorts, turning back to his screen. And he’s typing again when he says, absently, “I was just going to scan and send the plans. You didn’t have to drop in.”

“Hnn,” Batman walks closer to the pool of blue-light. The bunker is dark, otherwise, and smells clean. There’s no hint of the usual popcorn. 

He tugs off the cowl, ruffling his hair where it’s been flattened against his head, and Tim peeps back over his shoulder again. Surprised. Catching Bruce’s gaze, he quickly returns to his work, mumbles half-joking,

“I didn’t figure you’d take off the cowl!” And, “Haven’t seen your face in person for a couple weeks, ya know?”

Bruce says, “Hnn,” again, but in truth his mind is elsewhere. Twice now– three times, if you counted when he’d entered, Tim’s had the opportunity to turn around. And he hasn’t. He’s glanced back, over his shoulder and the chair-back, but. It’s a swivel-chair. Ergonomically designed, on wheels. Fully rotational. And. Does it mean Tim’s injured, or is he hiding something? 

“No patrol tonight?” Bruce hedges, and Tim ducks his shoulders.

“I had– have– a lot to catch up on, and I’ve been monitoring my regular route though in case something springs up, and I’ve been listening to the comms–“

“Not a criticism, Tim.”  _No injury, then_. “And this doesn’t count as a night off. Alfred would agree.”

He moves closer, while Tim mumbles, “Pot, kettle,” and keeps trying to work. But his fingers stutter a little over the keys. There’s a cup of… tea, not coffee, beside him. A few nectarine pits. A bottle of water three quarters of the way to empty. 

“You want to walk me through those plans?” Bruce says, trying his luck, and Tim jerks in his chair.

He stands quickly, nodding, moving over to the workbench. And  _oh._ Hiding something is right.

“They were a  _gift_ ,” Tim says, archly, because Bruce’s smile is, admittedly, a little smug. 

But seeing his kid dressed head-to-toe in honest-to-God  _Batman pyjamas_ will do that to him. It’ll also do funny things to his chest, warm and heavy things. And he doesn’t say,  _A gift to Tim, from Tim?_  because there’s some things he doesn’t have to know. For Tim’s sake.

In any case, he’s doing an admirable job at ignoring Bruce now, facing away and hunched over the sketches.

And Bruce can’t help it, the wave of fondness that overtakes him. So he takes a step forward, cape brushing the floor, and he wraps his arms around Tim in a hug.

The teenager stiffens in his arms, all gangly limbs and discomfort, but then he says, “ _Oh_ ,” on an exhale and relaxes all at once. And Bruce can feel the pressure of Tim’s fingers against the forearms of his gloves. 

They stay that way for a few long moments, until Bruce eventually starts to pull away, giving one last squeeze (a gentle one, because he  _is_  in the Batsuit). Before he steps away, though, he ducks his head forward. Pressing a quick kiss to Tim’s temple. Then he frowns, says, “Are you getting sick, Tim? You look a little flushed to me.” 

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [tumblr.](http://incogneat-oh.tumblr.com/post/74063354016/im-sure-youre-getting-so-many-of-these-but-if)


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